econd to actually registering as sex offenders—which would be excessive, really—there’s no better way to express the depths of our perversity than by publishing our annual singles poll. We get pervier every year. Do we like misguided Japanese rap? Oh, yes, very much so. It’s been on our desktop since March. Have you ever interrupted the drillwork of an orthodontist to find out what song was playing on the radio? I have (it was Enya). We probably all have. We like fleeting treats. Because sometimes fleeting treats turn into essential vitamins. Sure, sometimes they don’t, but we’re slutty enough to have an epiphany we might regret later. That’s half the fun. We don’t subscribe to “poptomism” and we don’t fear the “apopcalypse.” Shut the fuck up. Our jam is on.

James Murphy used to be a yelping disco-punk rogue, a hyper-ironic hipster-baiting hipster, a sleazy techno scamp, a rapscallion with cowbells, a joker in a packed disco or party. He didn’t really have Daft Punk playing at his house, the wink-wink rascal! Who knew, back then, that this merry prankster had feelings too? Who knew that, as impressive as his debut was, he was capable of incorporating gurgling grooves and pulses within a song about the death of a loved one, and far from coming off as trite or superficial, could sink the collective heart of a party while it shuffled to the beat?
[Ally Brown]

09. Lil' Wayne - Upgrade U

Does anyone even remember Beyonce doing this song? Like, on her album, the one you can buy at Amazon or one of the 157 record stores left in America? Lil’ Wayne cares not for your puny retail. He’s going to not borrow, but steal those tossed-off handclaps and frizzy horn squibs. Just toss in another image stew of “tangerine” “tambourine” and “a bitch with some lips like Angelin’” and simmer under West Indies/Frank White flow. Serve to waiting Internet hordes. But don’t try to give the man himself a dish—it’s Halloween, he’s eating stars.
[Evan McGarvey]

08. Grinderman - No Pussy Blues

Turns out it's easy to escape all those scurrilous accusations about losing your fire. You just grow a provocative beard, insist upon equally hirsute contributions from your bandmates and proceed to grumble about some frigid broad. With typewriters! And crazy-distorted violas! The delight of the song, of course, stems from Nick's desperate, leering screed; framing every recordable male action as a cynical ploy to get some ... well ... action. It's unambiguous, sleazy and amusingly insulting to everyone involved. Precisely the kind of lust-fueled delinquency that Cave delivers so well. Thrill with disgust--or simply giggle at his embittered crotch.
[Peter Parrish]

07. The National - Fake Empire

There’s not much going on in the opening track to The Boxer: Sufjan Stevens soft-pedals a few, glowing piano chords; Matt Beninger sidles up to the microphone and commences with the whiskey-breathed murmuring. “Stay out super-late tonight/Picking apples, making pie/Put a little something in the lemonade and take it with us,” he offers in the opening stanzas, perhaps the coziest invitation of the year. Then, he punctures the air with the rueful and enigmatic observation, “We’re half-awake in a fake empire.” For an album as muted as The Boxer, this is the equivalent to “We’re off to the races.” But the song—indeed, the whole album—feels lit from within, spreading slow warmth like a sip from a mug of spiked cocoa.
[Jayson Greene]

06. Radiohead - House of Cards

“House of Cards” is about infidelity, and Radiohead enacts its moral chronology to perfection. The groove is unquestionably the sultriest of the band’s not-exactly-sultry career, and less-attentive listeners very well may put it on to get it on. Thom Yorke, he of the beautifully sexless tenor, actually seduces at the start (“I don’t want to be your friend / I just want to be your lover”), just as the physical allure of a fling is its initial draw. Soon enough, however, it becomes less about desire than surrender (“forget about your house of cards”), which in turn exposes the surfeit of “denial” that brings a person to such a point. Sound familiar? If you’ve lived and loved, I’m guessing “your ears should be burning.”
[Josh Love]

05. M.I.A. - Jimmy

Considering how carefully orchestrated her every step is, I always thought praising M.I.A. for her “contradictions” gave her too much credit. But finally, one that makes sense: “Jimmy” is the single that’s most likely to convert the haters and yet it plays closest to the hater stereotype of Maya as having no actual talent, a reverse Robin Hood who steals from the poor and gives to the rich. But the truth is, your knowledge of Bollywood music is probably based on what you learned on that outtakes episode of “The Simpsons” and if M.I.A. had to completely steal this wholesale in order to reveal its discoballin’ headrush to the rest of us, so be it.
[Ian Cohen]

04. Justice - D.A.N.C.E.

As French demolition duo Justice’s earbleed-house leviathan annihilates once-verdant electronic pastures, its wranglers, Messrs Augé and de Rosnay, groove away to the blithely innocent sounds of early Michael Jackson. A brief respite from scorched earth synthesizers and atomic blast beats, Justice’s “D.A.N.C.E.” was a big sloppy mash-note to cheeky pop songs, and the most joyously mindless Euro-crossover since Junior Senior’s “Move Your Feet.” This sojourn only makes tracks like the pulverizing “Waters of Nazareth” even filthier; these brutes are so magnificently tasteless they chirrup King of Pop-derived chants like “You are such a P.Y.T.!” while preparing for their next assault.
[Jonathan Bradley]

03. Los Campesinos! - You! Me! Dancing!

Enough has been said about the rollicking, euphoric ten-note riff that flows through the heart of this song, so let's have a minute to appreciate the starry-eyed wonder (for once the phrase is justified) of "It's you! It's me! And it's dancing!" Daring for a guy who can't bring himself to confess he can't dance, but that's because he's just figured out what every wallflower does, eventually—he was wrong! He finally feels like it might be a good idea to get out there and dance, drink, love—and that's because it is a good idea!
[Ian Mathers]

02. UGK ft. OutKast - International Players’ Anthem

Tales of love, blatant misogyny, abused child support payments, marriage, strippers, pimping, and, most importantly, their repercussions, appear often in rap singles, but how often are they on the same track? Furthermore, posse cuts typically stand out because of the range of personalities involved, but when is the beat tailored to each one, let alone in correlation to the arc of the story? And when do you hear the sweetest, most soulful voice in many moons and horns so clean they sound bleached over a drum track that could have played over the speaker system at a strip club?

The answer is never, and that’s why this song is so incredible, because there’s nothing else like it.
[Tal Rosenberg]

01. LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends

No longer content just to ape his idols (although he did that very well indeed), James Murphy has finally written a bona fide classic of his own. Propulsive, melodic, pathos-laden—“All My Friends” shows that after a few years of being everyone’s favorite hipster, proudly wearing his influences on his sleeve, Murphy just may be tiring of the scene he has so ably parodied and defined all at once, at least if the lyric here is meant to be autobiographical; there is, after all, more to life than all of this. By recruiting John Cale (looking back with anger at a life of being the coolest person in the room) and Franz Ferdinand (enjoying the last of their 15 minutes while they can) to cover, Murphy proves the song itself can and does thrive outside of his own interpretation. This is a generation-defining moment for both Murphy and his audience; I half-expect it to be plundered for a beer commercial.
[Todd Hutlock]